


When Sovnguarde Beckons

by antiviancrows



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: F/F, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-01
Updated: 2015-06-01
Packaged: 2018-04-02 08:43:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4053802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/antiviancrows/pseuds/antiviancrows
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some of the details of the Dragonborn's life has been lost to time, but one ancient and lonely vampire remembers the way the Dragonborn smiled and the way she laughed and her fierceness in battle. The one lost soul still alive remembers the Dragonborn as she was, as a woman, as a person, as someone who loved and lost and died. She remembers the Dragonborn in every way that the legends do not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When Sovnguarde Beckons

Some of the details of the Dragonborn's life has been lost to time. No one remembers her as she was, aside from one other lost soul who is ancient and has lived too long and an old dragon in the same state. All they remember is that she saved the world. And while she was a hero of legend; while she had saved the world, she had been human too, and she had bled and cried like anyone else. 

She'd had a husband once. His name was Sorex Vinius and he had inherited the Winking Skeever Inn from his father and the Dragonborn had loved him. Sorex was dead now, just like almost everyone else who'd had the privilege of knowing the Dragonborn. She'd had children, once, too; orphans that she had adopted from the street, orphans who hadn't had anyone aside from her. She took them in and she gave them pretty things and all of her love, gave them the life they deserved, and she and Sorex raised them as best as hero and an innkeeper could. She built a house for them by herself as a surprise, and Sorex never asked where their money went or where she disappeared to for long stretches of time. But the world doesn't know this, only knows that she was larger than life and that she had saved the world a few times. 

Serana remembers. She sits alone in the house the Dragonborn built, because everyone else except for her is dead. Sometimes she remembers the Dragonborn fondly. Other times she mourns the loss of her friend and rages at the world that had taken the Dragonborn from her. Often, she finds herself wondering if the Dragonborn ended up in Sovnguarde, or in the Void, or with any of the Daedric Princes the hero of legend had sold her soul to. No greater power would be willing to give up the Dragonborn, but sometimes she concluded that Akatosh would fight the hardest for her and put her in Sovnguarde. 

She'd told Serana the stories of Sovnguarde. She'd said it was beautiful, even when covered by the World-Eater's mist. Serana doubted the stories her friend had told measured up to the real thing, and then she'd find herself hoping that, whenever she finally let go and died, she would end up with the Dragonborn, wherever that was. She was willing to face the Void; face any of the Princes; face Sovnguarde. The Dragonborn had faced so much worse for her; had been there for her ever since she'd woken up, and she was ready to return the favor. 

After years of sitting complacently in the Dragonborn's house, she finally took up her weapons and started traveling again. Skyrim had changed since she'd isolated herself. Long ago, the Dragonborn had fought for the Stormcloak rebellion, and Skyrim was still rebuilding. Serana didn't know how long it had been, only that Ulfric had died too, and that Skyrim was a little more accepting of the other races now. The Argonians still lived in the docks in Windhelm, but that was a choice on their part out of tradition, and the living conditions had vastly improved. 

She went back to Castle Volkihar, a drifting lost soul. Vingalmo had taken over in her absence, and though he welcomed her civilly, she didn't stay long. Orthjolf had long since been killed, and she didn't care enough to ask for the details of his death. She restocked her supplies and then left once more, wandering through the lands as she often had with the Dragonborn. The patrols of soldiers recognized her. She was nearly as important in the legend as the Dragonborn herself. Whenever she was in a city, the children would ask her for stories of the Dragonborn. Sometimes, she would tell them some of the details that had been lost to time. Sometimes she would make the long journey back to the Forgotten Vale and visit the last Snow Elf. She wondered how he had survived so long, how he still survived, and she realized that Akatosh must love his children indeed. She did not envy him; his burden was a heavy one. While she was old and had lived too long, she was not the only remaining of her kind. She would return Auriel's Bow to him, along with all of the elven arrows the Dragonborn had collected. He would not need it, but it was a direct link to the god that he served his whole long life, and she would not begrudge him that. 

It was a group of bandits that finally ended her life. They'd caught her at a time when she'd gone days without feeding and the sun was at it's most brutal. Still, she fought until the end when the edge of an axe met her neck and sent her head rolling away from her body. Her death was quick and painless, and she had nothing of value for the bandits to take, so they carelessly discarded her body, not realizing or not caring that she was a woman from a legend. 

She woke up in Sovnguarde, all the aches gone. She felt different, and she assumed that death had cured her of her vampirism. The descriptions the Dragonborn had provided of Sovnguarde had indeed not done justice to the place, and Serana stood for a moment look about her in wonder. Sovnguarde was beautiful; it was a worthy place for a hero to spend the afterlife in. With nothing else to do, she followed the well-worn path. Part of her knew it would lead to Shor's great hall.

She wasn't sure whether she should be surprised or not when she came to a large rock and saw the Dragonborn herself leaning against it, her arms crossed and a smirk on her face. She was wearing her trademark dragon armor, and her hair was swept carelessly out of her face. Her face was smooth and unlined once more. "Took you long enough," the Dragonborn said, and Serana smiled. "How did I get here? Not that I'm complaining, but I'm not exactly Sovnguarde material," Serana asks. "Oh, I pulled some strings. Took a hell of a lot of arguing with Tsun and everyone else. You don't even have to fight him to get across the bridge. Defeating the World-Eater has earned me quite the reputation," the Dragonborn answers, a hint of a smile playing across her lips, and once more Serana follows her. The Dragonborn introduces her to Ysgramor and all the others, and Serana is not surprised to see all of the Dragonborn's friends here, even that twisted little jester, who often complained about not being in the Void. When the Dragonborn, and Sovnguarde, beckoned, no one could deny the call. Not a servant of Sithis, and not even a lost and lonely vampire.


End file.
